Child of the Dawn

by Coleman, Clare;

  "I thought so, too," said Curling-leaf. "But Head-lifted has been talking to their chief."

  Tepua sighed. She felt so concerned over Matopahu that she had almost forgotten the problems of the Arioi. She did not know why Chipped-rock Lodge had offered to move her troupe from Tahiti. She was curious to learn what arrangements had been made. Surely her leaders had not softened their opposition to Land-crab! Or had they?

  Before she could wonder more about this, she found herself in a party collecting vines, flowers, and palm fronds in the fringes of the forest. The women brought their gatherings to the assembly ground to make wreaths. By now the early-morning sunlight gleamed on the lagoon, but the clearing remained in shadow. Tepua's bark-cloth cape was thin and worn, doing little to keep off the chill.

  "What a poor appearance we will make," Curling-leaf complained as she plaited a headband by wrapping one coconut leaflet with another. Carefully she worked the stems of scarlet-and-yellow hibiscus blooms into the band until she had a circlet of flowers. "Our hosts will have fresh wraps and capes, and we will have only these." She ran her hand over her frayed and stained tapa skirt, which she had worn every day since leaving Tahiti.

  "I hear we will be getting new clothing. Our hosts have already sent us face paint," said another novice, who was plaiting a garland of violet beach morning glory.

  "Why is the lodge of Chipped-rock suddenly being so generous?" someone else wanted to know. Tepua asked herself the same question. None of the troupes in Tahiti had offered help. Were these Arioi of Eimeo the only ones who did not fear Land-crab?

  As soon as she finished her decorations, Tepua joined the rehearsal of a dancing group. When the dancing master arranged the women in rows, he sent Tepua to the rear. She deserved a better place, she thought, but admitted to herself that she was out of practice. Long ago, she had astonished the Arioi with her dancing....

  Drummers beat on makeshift instruments as the women slowly swayed their hips. Everyone seemed stiff and awkward this morning. Tepua wondered why the lodge leaders insisted on performing at such short notice. Everything about this new development puzzled her.

  Before noon, a fleet of two-hulled canoes arrived to pick up the Arioi, now costumed and painted as well as they could manage, faces decorated with red and black. Tepua saw Maukiri at the rear of the crowd, talking excitedly to one of her new friends. Even attendants had been invited to this gathering.

  As Tepua stared at the far shore, she wished she could slip away from the group and search for Eye-to-heaven. The priest would have news of Matopahu's progress.

  She found her thoughts drifting as canoes took the party along the coast to a beach where their hosts stood waiting. Tepua's companions, cheered by the prospect of relief from their spartan existence, pranced and chanted as they stood on the decks. The Arioi ashore were splendidly dressed, arrayed in new capes of bleached tapa that were printed with rosettes and embellished with black-eyed daisies. Brilliant feather necklaces shone around their necks; pearl and shell ear ornaments glistened in the sunlight.

  Drums beat loudly, and flutes sang a high-pitched melody as the visitors waded ashore. Tepua hung back, watching, curious to see how her companions would be treated. She saw the lodge leaders embracing each other, and great merriment as the hosts escorted the visitors toward the Chipped-rock Arioi performance house.

  Tepua found her cousin beside her as she approached the high-roofed building, which resembled the one that had belonged to her own lodge. "Now you have some idea what we lost in the fire," she whispered to Maukiri as they gazed at the polished pillars made from whole coconut trees that supported the high thatched roof.

  The sides of the wooden structure lay open, mat walls rolled up to let in light and air. Tepua breathed the scent of freshly cut aretu grass that had been strewn about the floor. "That is where the chiefs and lodge leaders sit to watch the performance," she said, pointing to a raised wooden platform.

  Cooking aromas made Tepua's head turn. From the pit-ovens wafted hints of the coming feast. But before the meal there would be introductions, rituals, performances. Tepua sent Maukiri to join the attendants outside, then scurried to sit under the roof with the other Arioi women of her rank.

  The Chipped-rock Arioi welcomed the Tahitian troupe with garlands of black-centered daisies and sun-yellow hibiscus. Suspended on cords tied to the performance-house rafters were many presents for the visitors: capes, necklaces, and ornaments similar to the ones their hosts wore.

  On the platform, four-legged wooden stools had been arranged for the highest-ranking Arioi. Lower stools on the ground were for the intermediate members. Tepua seated herself beside Curling-leaf on a mat.

  Soon the chief comedians of the host lodge strutted out and introduced themselves, naming the special peak, river, and point of land for which their district was renowned. A traditional chant began, calling on Oro in his peaceful aspect—Oro-of-the-laid-down-spear, setting a tone of good fellowship between the host troupe and their guests. Even if their respective tribal chiefs had been actively at war, the two Arioi factions would now be pledged to a amicable meeting.

  So far as Tepua knew, Land-crab had no enemies here on Eimeo. It was not a good place to seek allies against him. If any ill will did exist, it was directed against her own Wind-driving Lodge for defying the man who claimed to be its tribal chief.

  The hosts began the entertainment, offering a rousing dance that made the onlookers slap their thighs in approval. The dancers ran off and players arrived. They wore typical garb for satire—outlandish headdresses and baggy loincloths. However, Tepua saw several costumes that seemed to mock the tattoos and dress of her own troupe. She stared in puzzlement. Arioi did not usually make fun of themselves.

  The skit began by depicting the start of an Arioi performance. Several richly dressed players, representing a Tahitian chief and his retinue, filed in, took their places, and waited for the show to begin. Other Chipped-rock Arioi depicted members of the Tahitian lodge, who strutted and chanted their opening introduction. But instead of starting to entertain, the Tahitian players began to complain about their "tribal chief." The most vociferous critic was a woman whose hairstyle, voice, and manner resembled Aitofa's.

  "We will not perform for this chief." She sneered. "Look how thin he is. A chief must have a big belly to be taken seriously."

  The mock chief got up, along with his retinue, and humbly withdrew. Another replaced him, but got no further with the arrogant "Tahitian" Arioi woman and her troupe. He would not do either—he was not tall enough to be chief. This man, too, withdrew and was replaced by yet another.

  Each mock chief who arrived was criticized and sent back until at last a disguised messenger from the god Oro appeared onstage and went before the Arioi, requesting a performance. This man, too, was refused. But instead of humbly retreating, as the others had done, he stripped off his disguise, announced his true nature, and said that Oro would punish these arrogant players who insulted tribal chiefs in his name. Instantly the "Tahitian" Arioi lodge house went up in "flames" of waving red cloth, and the lodge leaders fell to their knees, begging forgiveness and promising to mend their wayward behavior.

  Then the players all ran off, accompanied by thigh-pounding applause from the Chipped-rock Arioi. The visitors joined in, out of politeness, but many looked chagrined. Tepua could not help a surge of indignant anger. This performance made light of the near destruction of Wind-driving Lodge. Even worse, it suggested that Land-crab had been justified in his attack. How could these people of Eimeo be so hospitable and then turn around and embarrass their guests with this one-sided satire?

  She watched the expressions on the lodge leaders' faces. First Head-lifted smiled, and then Aitofa. Tepua knew that neither would openly object to this performance. It must not be said that Arioi could not bear being made the butt of their own humor.

  Tepua clenched his fists. The usurper was the one who should be mercilessly ridiculed—until public opinion forced him to change his w
ays. She saw the same protest in Curling-leaf's eyes and the faces of the other women around her, but none of them dared speak.

  Her own lodge leaders had clearly been taken by surprise—or had they? Head-lifted was looking more relaxed now, but Aitofa's smile appeared strained. Was it possible that Head-lifted had been told in advance what the hosts planned to perform for his troupe? Perhaps he had even helped plan it!

  Fortunately, the face paint helped to cover her companions' embarrassment. Now it was time for the Tahitians to entertain. Tepua hurried to take her place among the dancers.

  The drumming began. Despite her reaction to her host's satire, Tepua tried to do her best. As the dancers turned to face the platform, she saw that the chiefs of the host lodge had taken their high seats. They seemed to be watching her, though she stood in the last row.

  She noticed that the Chipped-rock Lodge contained several members of the order's highest rank—Blacklegs, tattooed solidly from ankle to loins. Only two, the male and female chiefs, wore the red maro about their hips. The other Blacklegs had the rank but not the authority. And they also seemed to be staring at her. Did her tall and slender figure make her so different from the other dancers?

  Tepua still chafed over the unfairness of the skit; the critical gaze of the Blacklegs challenged her even more. If these people were going to stare at her, then she would give them something to look at. As determination took hold, her awkwardness and stiffness began to ease.

  She had been struggling to keep pace with the drumbeat. Now she heard the music anew.

  Her rebellious spirit became a fire within her breast, flowing out along her limbs, infusing them with suppleness and strength. Her abilities of long ago returned. Her hips rocked smoothly, her arms glided through the air, her fingers moved through delicate patterns.

  The drumbeat quickened and her dance grew wilder, her hips moving faster, her hands taking on a life of their own. Now all eyes were fixed on her and she knew that she had left the other dancers behind. The drummers seemed to be playing only for Tepua. She could not stop, could not even think of stopping, for the fever of the dance had seized her. She was no longer the dancer, but the dance itself.

  The faces of the Chipped-rock players, the hard stare of the Blacklegs, the awed expressions of her own troupe, all began to vanish in a growing red-orange haze. As if from a distance, she heard the cries of "Nevaneva!" from the people watching. "Divine frenzy! The god has seized her." Dimly she grew aware that the other dancers had halted their performance, leaving the stage to her alone.

  It was as if Tepua danced within the heart of a flame, whose heat and color grew more intense with every drumbeat. She no longer knew where her body ended and the fire began. She flowed, and the light flowed with her, blossoming with a power she thought she could not stand.

  Then, into the flames surrounding her, came a sight that made her gasp. She was dancing alone no longer. He had come to her. Oro! Oro-of-the-laid-down-spear!

  The god danced before her, a strong golden youth, clapping his knees together and apart at a speed far greater than any mortal partner. He flung his head back, giving great god-laughs of joy. "If I could choose a mortal woman now," Oro said, "it would be you. But you are promised to a mortal man, and not even a god can change that. I will be there when he comes to you."

  The next instant he was gone, dissolving into his sacred fire, surrounding Tepua, infusing her, transmuting his power into her dance. She gave the last of her strength to Oro. In one final burst, she tried to free herself from human limitations. Then the light faded and she felt her driven body, exhausted, sinking to the ground.

  Hands were on her, not divine hands, but mortal ones, holding her up, steadying her, helping her off the dance area. Voices babbled in her ears. Something cool and soothing was put to her lips, easing her parched throat.

  A wave of sound broke around her, as if the echoes of Oro's rich laughter still rang. No. She was hearing the cries and thigh-slapping of applause resounding through the performance house. Applause for her, the dancer seized and honored by the god.

  Staggering, leaning heavily on Curling-leaf and several other women, she managed to return to her place. Her friends eased her down, mopped the sweat from her body with their garments, rubbed her with scented oil, and garlanded her with more flowers. She tried to recall the voice that had spoken, but the words would not come back to her.

  Gradually the aftereffect of the frenzy wore off. Her breathing slowed, her pulse eased, until she was able to reply to the exclamations and words of praise. She noticed another group continuing the performance. At last the entertainment ended.

  Still exhausted from her effort, Tepua tried to listen to the speeches that followed, first by Head-lifted, and then by First-to-crow, the male chief of the Chipped-rock Lodge. She heard talk that puzzled her—of a special pact of friendship between the two lodges, of ceremonies to formalize this agreement. These words roused her from her dreamy state and made her look up in bewilderment. She had never heard of such arrangements between Arioi troupes.

  First-to-crow announced that there would be an exchange of members. Tepua's companions were wide-eyed as they gazed at each other in astonishment. First-to-crow ignored the stir and began calling names of men and women of his lodge, Chipped-rock Arioi who would now be inducted into the exiled Tahitian troupe.

  "How can this be?" the voices whispered. "Head-lifted would not allow it. And Aitofa—"

  But Tepua saw Head-lifted standing by proudly, apparently pleased at all that was happening. Aitofa showed a very different face, her brows knit, her lips pressed tightly together. She wore the look of one who had been forced into consenting to something she did not want.

  The first to come forward was one of the Blacklegs, a sturdy woman whose ample belly almost matched that of First-to-crow. Her face was completely covered with scarlet dye, and her skin glistened with coconut oil. Arrayed in a plumed headband of black and red feathers and an elaborately printed tapa cape, she held herself proudly as she faced the audience.

  Around Tepua, people were whispering. "We are being tricked," someone said. "Our lodge already has a female Blackleg."

  "This new one will cause trouble," replied another. "She will be Aitofa's rival."

  Tepua studied the interloper, whose short name was Pehu-pehu. She looked strongly built, a woman capable of getting what she wanted through her physical strength alone. That she was connected to the highest families of Eimeo only added to her aura of power. Her gaze slowly swept the crowd, already challenging the members of her new troupe.

  Was Pehu-pehu coming as a spy? Tepua wondered. Or was her purpose to give Chipped-rock Lodge an influence over the affairs of Tepua's troupe? She could not understand why her leaders had approved this unless it was the only way to prevent the troupe's destruction. First-to-crow called a few other members forward, but these were from the lowest ranks and seemed unhappy to be changing lodges.

  It was true, Tepua thought ruefully, that without the many goods the troupe needed, it would be unable to keep performing. Lack of cloth was an immediate problem. With no breadfruit or taro, and coconut running low, merely feeding the group was becoming difficult. If the other troupes continued to scorn Wind-driving Lodge, it soon would be destroyed.

  "And now," First-to-crow continued, "I call those chosen for the honor of joining the esteemed Chipped-rock Lodge." Tepua scowled as she wondered where the "honors" would fall. Her lodge had no spare Blackleg, but there were others of high rank sitting on the platform who might go to the host troupe. She watched with annoyance as a man of the Light-print order, tattooed with short horizontal lines on both sides of his body, was summoned. Tepua had seen this man quarreling with Head-lifted; now he seemed pleased to be leaving. Next, a woman of the same rank, Aitofa's principal advisor and supporter, was called to stand beside him.

  Tepua began to feel a nervous chill. It is a plot to weaken Aitofa and give Head-lifted more power! The women around Tepua seemed to sense what was h
appening. Aitofa was a staunch foe of Land-crab. The skit performed today had implied that she was the one to blame for her troupe's exile and misfortune. Evidently Head-lifted agreed, for now he was taking steps to push Aitofa aside. What could this be but laying groundwork for getting back into favor with the usurper?

  Tepua sat numbly as a few more names were called. A hand shook her. Suddenly she realized that she had once again become the center of attention. "Tepua-mua," the lodge chief repeated.

  She stood up shakily but did not go to join the others. Head-lifted was glaring at her, and Aitofa wore a strained expression. First-to-crow called her name once again.

  Tepua turned to glance first at Maukiri and then at Curling-leaf; their looks of dismay cut her deeply. Abandon her cousin and her most loyal friend? How could anyone ask that? She clenched her fist, stood up straight, raised her chin.

  "Forgive me, noble chief, but I cannot accept this honor," Tepua declared, trying to clear the hoarseness from her voice. First-to-crow looked back at her with astonishment as she said, "I am not worthy to wear your fine clothes and sleep under your high roof. Not while my companions wear tatters and sleep under palm-leaf shelters." She saw Aitofa give her a penetrating glance, but the chiefess looked more surprised and relieved than angry. Tepua continued, "I can accept this honor only when my troupe is home again, our performance house rebuilt, and my leaders accorded their proper respect by the high chief."

  A hush fell over the assembly. Tepua sat down and stared at the ground. They could not expel her for this. Not unless her own leaders ordered her to come forward and accept the authority of the Chipped-rock Lodge. She wondered if Head-lifted would risk further antagonizing Aitofa and the other Arioi women.

  She heard a hasty, whispered conference among the lodge leaders. Snatches of arguments drifted to her.

  "This dancer is headstrong, disobedient, a bad example—"

  "But the god did seize her. How can we punish—"

  I do not know what they will do to me, Tepua thought glumly. Whatever happens, it will be better than leaving Curling-leaf and Maukiri.